


[Doctor Who drabbles and ficlets]

by aces



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-18 16:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: Variety of short fics, consolidated into a single "work" so as not to spam with dozens of extra fics. :)





	1. Alien sex pollen made us do it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz Kreiner/8th Doctor

Fitz curled in on himself. He was giggling quietly. The Doctor stood over him, caught somewhere between worry, exasperation, and even a tiny bit of amusement, though he knew he should not find the situation funny at all.

"Fitz," he said, "Fitz, listen to me very carefully. You've been--well, let's just say, you should not have inhaled the pollen from that flower, alright? It has slightly hallucinogenic and mood-altering properties on humans. As you're no doubt already aware..."

"Mood-altering," Fitz giggled. "Groovy."

"Fitz." The Doctor knelt next to his friend, mildly grateful that none of the locals were around to see Fitz make a complete and utter ass out of himself. They would have found it the height of offense, even after the Doctor explained Fitz's biology. "Fitz, I'm going to take you back to the TARDIS and you're going to sleep off the effects. Alright? How does that sound?"

Fitz wrapped his arms around the Doctor and laid his head on the Doctor's shoulder. "I like your coat," he said. "It's always so soft."

"You've often expressed an appreciation for the velvet, yes," the Doctor was infinitely patient. "Would you please let go of me so we can stand up and go back to the TARDIS?"

"Mood-altering," Fitz repeated. He started mouthing at the Doctor's neck. "Not all that mood-altering."

"Fitz," the Doctor sighed. "I'd really rather you waited to do that for another five minutes. Just until we get back, alright?"

"Oh, come on, Doctor," Fitz sounded husky. "Don't you know your sci-fi? Alien sex pollen is *all* the rage."


	2. friends in space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Donna Noble where she remembers everything that happened to her because SHE SHOULD HAVE, DAMMIT

"Where the hell have you been?" Donna stalked across the pub and stopped in front of Sophie, who was sitting at the bar. Donna crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Well?"

"About," Sophie sounded just a bit defensive. She was wearing a black veil today, but she'd put it up when she came inside. "In the States, mostly."

"You would not believe what's been going on around here." Donna sat down on the stool next to Sophie's. "Oi! Barkeep! What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?"

Sophie insisted on paying for Donna's gin and tonic, and within five minutes they were deep in conversation, filling each other in on what they'd been doing since they'd last chatted. By the time they'd each finished several drinks, they'd touched upon all the major highlights.

"I would have liked to have met your Doctor friend," Sophie sounded wistful.

"Not your type," Donna sniffed. "Skinny-arsed. Bit weasly-looking too."

"No, what I mean is, just think what I could have done in space. And all of time! Donna, I could have met Cecil B. DeMille! Or Irving!"

"You could also have stolen the Mona Lisa before the paint had even finished drying," Donna pointed out.

"Yeees," Sophie sounded thoughtful. "That too..."


	3. tea amongst friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shalka!verse Doctor & Master

The Doctor threw down the spanner he was using to fix the TARDIS--failing to fix the TARDIS, as the Master thoughtfully pointed out more than once--and said, "Fetch me a drink then, if you refuse to be useful any other way."

"Would you prefer whiskey in your tea, or tea in your whiskey?" inquired the Master.

"An equal measure," the Doctor glared. "I loathe the idea of milk so don't you dare add it."

"I wouldn't dream of it." The Master's long-suffering voice faded away as he went to the kitchen. The Doctor returned to his tinkering, muttering the while.

The Master returned, china cup and saucer in hand. "Your tea, Doctor," he said sweetly. "So wonderful to know I can be of service to you."

"Hmph." The Doctor took the cup and sipped from it. He sighed and sat back against the console. "At least you still know how to make a marvelous cup of tea."

"You're welcome," said the Master.


	4. [tea is becoming a metaphor, isn't it?]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz & the 8th Doctor

"You can't take that," the Doctor stated from the kitchen doorway.

"Er," said Fitz, looking between the teabag in his hand and the Time Lord.

"It's the last one."

"Sooo, we'll get some more next time we land?"

The Doctor started shaking his head, walking across the kitchen, and Fitz suppressed a sigh. "That won't work, you see. If one of us uses this teabag now, before we find any more, then we shall be doomed to go to planets that have never heard of tea. Perpetually."

"Considering how often we land on Earth, I don't believe that." Fitz crossed his arms. Still holding the teabag. Just in case.

"We'll land on a part of the planet in a time where they'd never even heard of tea. The Cretaceous period." The Doctor shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. "Believe me, it's happened to me before. I can't let you, Fitz. The fate of the interpersonal harmony on the TARDIS precludes me from allowing you to use that teabag."

"We could share this teabag," Fitz said at last.

"Oh." The Doctor blinked. And then smiled brightly. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Fitz didn't bother suppressing his sigh this time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9th Doctor encounters a Weevil

The Doctor ran through the streets of Cardiff, intent on tracking down a small, furry creature that had no business on Earth and could cause quite a deal of trouble were it left to roam the planet freely. It was late, it was an industrial area that was not used much at the moment, and the Doctor had only seen a handful of people in the past ten minutes.

A Weevil jumped in front of him.

The Doctor reared back. The Weevil started after him, in that lumbering, graceless way they all had, and then it stopped. And started howling.

The Doctor froze at the sound, when he would have taken the opportunity to--what? Run? Stun the beast so he could take it off Earth with that small fuzzy creature that was still out there somewhere?

The Weevil was still howling, like a wolf in the moonlight. The Doctor took a cautious step closer to it. It stopped howling, but it didn't move. It just watched him.

An SUV swerved around the corner behind him and screeched to a halt. Two people jumped out, a third still at the wheel. "Sir! Sir, please back away from that--costumed person. We'll handle it from here." The man had a strong London accent.

"Costumed person," the Doctor repeated. "That sounds a bit daft."

"We got a call," the Asian woman said quickly. "Party, drugs, got out of hand, you know how it is."

"Right." The Doctor stepped back from the Weevil, and it continued to watch him. "You lot handle it, I've got to move on anyway." He started quickly down the street again.

"Did you hear it howling?" he heard the man mutter as they stunned and manhandled the Weevil into the back of the SUV. "I've never heard any of them sound like that."


	6. lonely angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madame de Pompadour and the 10th Doctor

_Godspeed, my lonely angel._

She laid her head back against the pillows and shut her eyes. The pen was too heavy to lift now. She was tired. So tired.

Servants took the lap desk away from her—she could close and seal the letter tomorrow, later—and arranged the covers around her and eventually, blessedly, left her alone. Louis would come soon, she knew, and say good-night.

“Tomorrow,” a soft voice said, “after you wake, you will seal that letter and give it to the king. Remember that, Reinette. You must remember to do that tomorrow.”

Her eyes opened as she inhaled deeply. She turned her heavy head. “My angel,” she said, and smiled. “My angel.”

“Hello, Reinette,” he said, and she saw a dark figure move closer through the shadows. 

“At last,” she said, holding out her arm. It trembled with the effort. “I knew you would come, Doctor.” He moved so slowly, and she was so impatient. Finally he was close enough to sit on the edge of her bed, take her hand. “How long?” she asked. The servants had left no candles alight; it was too dark for her to see his face.

He squeezed her hand. “Years,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. “I took the slow path this time.”

For a long while they did not speak, and then she told him of her life since the last time she had seen him. He told her only a very little about what he had done, but his hand remained closed around hers, warm and comforting and solid.

“I wish I could see you better,” she said. “I would know how much you have changed.”

He raised her hand to his lips. “Very little physically, perhaps,” he said. “You remember me, Reinette. That’s enough.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, her eyes closing again with their own weight. “For coming back.”

She felt the shift in the bed as he stood up, felt the tiny breeze as he leant over her, felt his lips press against her forehead, her lips. “Remember,” he whispered. “You have to give that letter to the king tomorrow.”

“But why? I’ve seen you now…”

“Please, Reinette. I’m bending a certain number of laws by being here and I would rather not break them entirely.”

“You,” she said fondly. She placed her hand against his cheek, guided unerringly by touch as her eyes were still shut. “You have broken your own laws more times than even you can count, my angel. But I shall do as you bid.”

He pressed the hand she held against his face, and then he gently laid it back down beside her on the bed. “Good-bye, Reinette.”

“Good night, Doctor…”

That night she dreamt of an angel who saved her from the monsters under the bed, and she felt young and safe again.


	7. Five things that happened in the lead-up to Fitz finally leaving the TARDIS for good

1\. The Doctor started shutting Fitz out. The Doctor could be pretty mysterious and unwilling to discuss—things—at the best of times, but it only got worse.  
2\. He stopped seeming to care. Fitz prodded him, yelled at him, tried to push him to think, to want to save the day, and he _didn’t_.  
3\. It didn’t help that the Doctor kept harping about the cigarettes, either.  
4\. Trix left. She asked Fitz to go with her, but he said no because he thought he could get the Doctor to snap out of it. And when she was gone, the Doctor…didn’t really seem to care about that either.  
5\. Actually, and this is the part that kinda breaks Fitz’s heart if he thinks about it (which is why he doesn’t think about it much): he _didn’t_ leave the TARDIS. The Doctor left him. Deliberately. And Fitz doesn’t think he’ll ever get to find out _why_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor & Death

“You really ought to know better by now, Doctor,” she chided with a smile, sweeping down the corridor in a flowing black dress and holding his arm.

“You know I never learn,” he grinned back. “Always rooting for the underdog, that’s me.”

“One of these days it’s going to get you killed,” she whispered confidentially. “For _real_.”

“And you’ll be there like always, waiting,” he answered, almost cheerily.

“Of course, Doctor,” she said. “I wait for you at the end of each of your lives. You’re such a tease!” She laughed coquettishly.

“But we’re all promised to you in the end, lady,” he answered, “so you can stand a little teasing.”

She stopped in front of the door at the end of the long corridor and stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek before gently pushing him through the door. 

“Until next time, Doctor,” she whispered.


	9. closing doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and the 8th Doctor

The door was closing. 

He felt odd, watching it close from this side. He wasn’t used to it, and even though he’d prepared himself for it this time, it still filled him with that wrenching sense of abandonment. 

_My friend would never abandon me._

No, he was the one doing the abandoning, but that was alright, that was expected, that was taken care of, and everyone knew what they were doing and so it wasn’t really an abandonment at all. 

Sometimes, strangely, life really does move on. And he had been in a unique sort of stasis for quite a while. 

The door was closing. 

The door would close, and he would disappear, and life—would be different. Not necessarily better or worse, merely different. But there was still life, and he was still here to live it, and really, that was saying something, all things considered. 

But. 

But the door was closing, and they’d said their good-byes, and they’d all known what was coming which meant they’d both been exactly unprepared for what that meant, and the door was closing. 

“Wait!” Fitz pelted back to the TARDIS and slammed his hand against the flimsy-feeling blue-panelled door. 

The door opened slowly. 

The Doctor peered out, staring at Fitz. “Yes?” he said, and there was no emotional content to his tone. 

Fitz dragged him through the doorway and gave him a bear hug. A

fter a moment, the Doctor hesitantly hugged him back. And then he took a step back, and kissed Fitz on the forehead, and said, “You have been one of my best friends,” quite simply. 

Fitz nodded, and squeezed the Doctor’s arms, and blinked a lot. “Er. You too,” he said after a pause. 

The Doctor grinned, and stepped back fully. “Good-bye, Fitz,” he said. 

Fitz nodded, but didn’t feel up to saying anything this time, and the Doctor looked him in the eye before turning away. He walked back into the TARDIS steadily, and closed the door. 

Fitz picked up his duffel and didn’t wait for the sound of dematerialization.


	10. [crack crossovers are our friends!]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz, the Doctor, Anji, and a certain Cap'n Jack... (no, not that the one, the other one)

“Is this really necessary?” the Doctor fussed with his open-necked shirt and colourful sash and…flamboyant…coat.

“Yes,” the pirate said precisely, even if the word held a slight slur to it. “If you want to get aboard that ship, you have to blend in. An’ if you want to blend in, you have to look like a pirate. Savvy?”

The Doctor couldn’t really argue with his logic. “Alright,” he sighed and told himself to stop playing with the sash.

“Have a hat,” said the pirate, plopping a tricorner on the Doctor’s light brown curls. The Doctor reflexively clapped his hand over it, making sure it was firmly settled on his head.

He admired himself as best he could in the silver mirror. “I make a rather good pirate, don’t I?” he decided aloud admiringly. “Very dashing, I must say.”

The real pirate looked at him appraisingly over his shoulder through the mirror. “You’ll do,” he said, rather indifferently in the Doctor’s opinion. “C’mon.”

He led the Doctor up the steps to the top deck of the ship where Fitz and Anji were waiting. “What do you think?!” the Doctor grinned as he bounded up to them. He twirled energetically so that his coattails and the ends of his sash flew out around him. He kept a hand on the hat so he wouldn’t lose it.

Anji was grinning uncontrollably.

“_Eyeliner?!_” Fitz gaped.

The pirate sidled up to Fitz, tapping him on the chin. Fitz switched his shocked gaze down to the closer man. “You should try it sometime, mate,” said the pirate consideringly. “It’d bring your eyes out something grand.”

Anji was laughing outright now. Fitz blushed and mumbled something incoherent.


	11. Chapter 11

He starts almost innocently, in small ways. A gash here, a scrape there; an honestly-earned bruise now and then. Just testing the waters. Like anyone would.

When not even a long, thin pole through his side (piercing his kidney, his _kidney_) phases him for more than a few moments, he knows.

*

Jack falls.

A moment of weakness; or maybe idle curiosity; he hasn’t tried anything in months, out of some kind of instinctive, primal fear. But when he stands on that building, that very, very tall building, he feels calm. Relaxed, even.

It is easy to release all tension in his body and fall forward.

But then primal instinct takes over again; body tensed, legs seizing up, head tucking in under arms, curling into a protective fetal position. Fear, fear; his head aches with it and his stomach roils with it.

The pain is crushing when he lands, but it fades almost instantaneously.

*

Jack gets a little drunk.

He feels goofy, is charming and devilish and doing his best to be absolutely ravishing. It is working, too; no doubt of that, and he grabs her—his?—face and starts kissing.

The golden glow he can feel suffusing his face seems to be coming over her as well (yep, definitely a her this time), and at first it’s really pleasant until he flashes onto how she dies, and the thought flickers in the back of his mind that maybe he can save her from ever dying too, and that’s when he breaks away, stumbles out of the party, and runs the hell out of town without even stopping to think any further.

*

_Snapshot image_:

Jack, bathroom, tub. Tasteful blue and white tile; spacious room; dripping faucet; old-fashioned (relatively speaking) brass tub with clawed feet. He sits upright in the lukewarm water, passive. Dried blood has trailed down the sides of the tub. He was careful, slit the right way. But the wounds closed hours ago, long before any real damage could have been done.

*

He tries poison, burning through his bloodstream; he overdoses on little blue pills and big, bright orange ones; he stands under trees in lightning storms and finds the busiest streets in all the worlds he can. He goes to war and he starves himself. He thinks if he concentrated hard enough he could remember those missing two years and he could come up with an explanation why Rose and the Doctor left without him. He ignores both thoughts and comes up with more elaborate ways to kill himself.

It’s a way to pass the time.

*

The whole pregnancy thing is a byproduct from one of those more elaborate and admittedly creative ways. Sadly, it doesn’t even involve actual sex.

*

He notices a grey hair and the terror that he might live forever and grow old along with it grips him for a solid year.

* 

Then he starts taking bets from people on how many ways he can’t die. He makes quite a healthy nest egg for himself until the local authorities bust his ass for illegal gambling. He fakes his own death to escape the jail time. Stupidly, it _works_.

*

He thinks about cutting off his dick in an effort just to stop the damned sexual frustration, but so far he’s managed to avoid slicing off any actual important body parts and despite everything, he really doesn’t want to push his luck.

Besides, he’s getting better at controlling the whole glowy thing. He can now even snog people without taking them further than five minutes into their past or future. He is confident that in future he won’t have to rely solely on his own hand.

*

He stops trying to kill himself eventually. Well, not more than once a month or so. Twice if he gets too drunk and doesn’t sober up fast enough.

*

When he joins Torchwood, and when a severed hand falls out of the sky, he really doesn’t have to rely solely on his own hand anymore.

*

Eventually Jack learns to fall and like the wind rushing past his ears, freezing in his chest. He thinks this is how those old-time pilots felt in their tiny planes with open cockpits, and he thinks the Doctor would approve.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossover with _Life on Mars_!

"Who is the poncy git in the clown outfit standing in my station?" Gene Hunt inquired of the squad room at large when he stepped out of his office, Sam following behind.

"This, sir, is no clown outfit," the poncy git in the clown outfit proclaimed. "Are you the man in charge?"

"No, I just like the view from in that office," Gene flicked a thumb behind him. "What do you bloody think?"

"I'm the Doctor," the other man said, "and I rather think you need my help."

"I don't need anybody's help," said the DCI. "Chris, would you get rid of this tosser?"

"Are you or are you not currently investigating a number of strange disappearances?" the Doctor held up a hand, stopping Chris in his tracks.

"Yeah, so what?" Gene sounded indifferent. "Everybody knows that."

"Not everybody knows that you've found a tiny doll in the place of where the person should have been, ones that looked exactly like them." Despite his colorful garb, the Doctor looked grim. "Believe me, sir, I'm the only one who can help you."

"Sir," Sam said over Gene's shoulder, urgently. "How could he--"

"I know, Tyler, I know," Gene cut him off, staring still at the Doctor. "How do we know you're not the one causing all this?"

"Believe me, I would never do that to those poor people. But I know who is, and I tell you I can help you."

"Fine," Gene said at last and held up a hand to forestall Sam Tyler's protests. "We'll give you a listen. But only if you take off that bloody coat."


	13. Closing doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, ma! I didn't kill off Fitz! Aren't you proud of me?

The door was closing.

He felt odd, watching it close from this side. He wasn’t used to it, and even though he’d prepared himself for it this time, it still filled him with that wrenching sense of abandonment.

_My friend would never abandon me. _

No, he was the one doing the abandoning, but that was alright, that was expected, that was taken care of, and everyone knew what they were doing and so it wasn’t really an abandonment at all.

Sometimes, strangely, life really does move on. And he had been in a unique sort of stasis for quite a while.

The door was closing.

The door would close, and he would disappear, and life—would be different. Not necessarily better or worse, merely different. But there was still life, and he was still here to live it, and really, that was saying something, all things considered.

But.

But the door was closing, and they’d said their good-byes, and they’d all known what was coming which meant they’d both been exactly unprepared for what that meant, and the door was closing.

“Wait!” Fitz pelted back to the TARDIS and slammed his hand against the flimsy-feeling blue-panelled door.

The door opened slowly.

The Doctor peered out, staring at Fitz. “Yes?” he said, and there was no emotional content to his tone.

Fitz dragged him through the doorway and gave him a bear hug. 

After a moment, the Doctor hesitantly hugged him back. And then he took a step back, and kissed Fitz on the forehead, and said, “You have been one of my best friends,” quite simply.

Fitz nodded, and squeezed the Doctor’s arms, and blinked a lot. “Er. You too,” he said after a pause.

The Doctor grinned, and stepped back fully. “Good-bye, Fitz,” he said.

Fitz nodded, but didn’t feel up to saying anything this time, and the Doctor looked him in the eye before turning away. He walked back into the TARDIS steadily, and closed the door.

Fitz picked up his duffel and didn’t wait for the sound of dematerialization.


End file.
